


Family Ties

by darkchives



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkchives/pseuds/darkchives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Criminal AU. Bones is the show runner of a shadowy organization with hands in all manner of crimes across the city. Pavel Chekov is a poor kid with a family to support and no qualms about getting his hands a little dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

He’d been in Enterprise since he was in high school. He’d worked his way through the ranks and knew who was good for each role. You didn’t want a crippled pickpocket or a coward as a car thief. Each had their place, and that was why recruitment was so important. Without a good base, the entire tower would fall.  


Pavel Chekov had been making a name for himself. Not only was he a brilliant and sought-after hacker, he was also a nimble and extraordinarily stealthy pick-pocket. And he was looking for employment. Chekov had to admit, he wasn’t the best in the PR department. Though rather effeminately attractive (according to the few girls he’d spoken to while attending high school for a few months), his accent always betrayed him: he didn’t belong here. So he quit school and hacked a few credit card accounts, sending the money to his mother anonymously. The hacking didn’t provide a place to stay, however so he put his ear to the ground and listened. The whispers he heard on the street pointed him to the Enterprise Operation, and that was where Chekov found himself now, facing a gruff, middle-aged man.  


McCoy pulled out all the stops in dealing with this new boy. He looked a lot younger than he likely was, but that did well in the trade where being underestimated could be the difference from a payload taller than you were and a grave that was shorter. His face, though youthful, looked intelligent, with fine, high cheekbones. McCoy shook his head to clear it and brought in his two biggest men to stand on either side of his desk. Normally he was alone in his private office, but it was never too early to scare some loyalty out of the urchins that he usually encountered. 

“You got a name, son?”

Chekov gulped and tried his best not to look intimidated. So what he was scrawny and not that tall, and there were two hulks waiting for him to make the wrong move. He had something neither of those men could offer: pure, intuitive intellect. And that wouldn’t last if they beat his head in, so Chekov stood up a little straighter.  
“Chekov, Pavel Andeievich, sir. I’m heer for a job.”

Chekov. He knew a couple of Chekov’s, but none of them had that hellish of an accent.

“I’ve got a couple of jobs, but that’s all depending on what you can do. Now I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say you’re not here trying to work as the muscle.” The two enormous, dull men laughed. Bones shot them a look. If he knew people, and he did, this kid was about to be ten times as valuable as both of them put together.

“I can do a lot of zeengs, sir. Like hacking and picking pockets and solving quantum mathematical equations. Vat do you need me for, sir?”

Quantum mathematical equations? What the hell were they feeding these Russian kids? Bones pulled a folder out of his desk and placed it in front of him.

“Take a seat. If you were going to be working for me you’d start out small. Can’t have boys running my more valuable markets and come to find out they ain’t got the sense god gave a dog. Is that going to be a problem?”

Chekov shook his head innocently. “Absolutely not, sir. I understand zee merits of hard vork, sir.” The kid wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the man, nor did he know what his new duties would be, but it was clear he’d made at least some sort of impression. McCoy wasn’t smiling, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes and on his lips. He hadn’t been kicked out yet, which must count for something. He sat down at the desk and smoothed the papers sitting there, and looked up expectantly.

“I’m sure you do.” Bones laughed easily and smiled openly seconds before he grabbed the boy’s t-shirt and yanked him halfway over the desk, bringing their faces very close. “ You’ve got ten seconds to tell me who sent you here and another ten to pray to whatever god you believe in that I feel merciful when you’re done.”  
Chekov could feel that the man expected him to fight back, or to beg, or to cry out, so he did nothing. Instead, he tried to inhale (though the man’s tight hold was certainly making it difficult) and answered, “Sir, you meesunderstand me. I sent myself. I vork for no one but me, and you, should you decide to hire me. Eef zat is a problem, I can see myself out. Eef not, please let me go as civilized man should.”

Bones relaxed his hold on the kid and let out a laugh big enough to bring two of his other men running into the room. The kid had passed the first test with flying colors. Now that was potential. He slapped him on the back.

“Now that that is over and I can stop being a hardass for a few minutes, tell me about yourself. Why the hell is a kid like you doing hacking and picking pockets?” It wasn’t as sociable a question as most would conclude. He had to make sure the boy didn’t have any glaring priors or a drug addiction. One sign of anything heavier than cigarettes and any of his men would be out on their ass faster than a rattler’s twitch.

Chekov nodded – it was a valid question. Anyone who admitted to being a bit of a math genius owed some explanation for his life choices. “My family ees very poor, sir. I quit school to vork and gain money, but a kid like me doesn’t make zee beeg bucks. So I turned my talents to razzer more illegitimate uses and heer I am.” He didn’t mention the reason for his family being on this side of the ocean at all, nor the very bad people who wouldn’t mind finding his family. Chekov didn’t want to scare off his new employer, and also believed himself adroit enough to deal with those particular issues himself.

Bones nodded solemnly and waved his men out. The conversation they were about to have was not one he wanted the others to hang over the kid’s head. As soon as they were out of earshot he spoke.

“Now listen, kid. I know what it’s like to not belong and I can help you out every once in a while as long as you work hard and don’t cause any problems, but if you’re looking for some damn father figure or mentor then you’ve come to the wrong place. This is a place of business. Understand?”

Chekov set his jaw. “No, sir, I don’t need anything from you but your money and your promise that you won’t ever ask to haf dealing vith my family. I assure you zat I am fairly self-sufficient. But… Zank you, sir. Eet is more zan I deserve.” The man’s honesty was to be commended, Chekov convinced himself. And admittedly, Pavel knew he looked pretty waifish. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days, and he hadn’t seen his mother or his little sisters in over a month. But none of that could matter now.

McCoy reclined in his desk chair and folded his hands over his face. He had already decided that the kid would receive a probationary position in his crew, but he rather enjoyed seeing the little ones squirm. He wasn’t getting as much satisfaction from it as he usually did (God, he was getting soft), but that only meant good things for the kid’s future in the business. He let the silence drag on for another minute before stretching and getting to his feet.

“Well son it’s really temporary and any of my people could drop you off on the street with one word from me, but you’re hired. Pay’s a percentage of whatever you rake in, very susceptible to change but I’m a fair man, and room and board are free as long as you get your ass out of bed every day and work. Fair?” He didn’t really need to ask the boy if he wanted the job, Bones could see it in his very desperate expression, but it was better for a man’s pride if he thought he had some choice in the matter.  
Chekov nodded, relieved to finally have the job confirmed. “Zank you again, sir. May I see my quarters? I am werry curious. And vere will I be vorking? Zee computer, zat is. I need good vifi, eef zat is possible. I can reeg a netvork, if not.” Suddenly, the excitement of having proper work and hope for getting enough money to help his mother settled around Chekov like a warm glow. He was tired, yes (he’d snatched some cash from passerby on the streets before coming here), but he was also elated.

McCoy admired the kid’s enthusiasm, but there were a few fail safes and hoops to get through before you were allowed access to anything resembling the funds of his operation.

“You’ve got to work your way up no matter how much of a genius you are. You’re bunking with Sulu on the second floor. You and him canvas the morning crowd going to work. We want phones, wallets, purses if it’s convenient, but don’t you get pinched because you tried to take a watch off of somebody’s wrist. You do well for a couple of weeks and we’ll talk about taking on different stuff. If Sulu gets pinched that looks bad on you. You’re partners out there. Watch out for him and he’ll do good by you.” Bones knew that pick-pocketing wasn’t the most intellectual of jobs that the kid was capable of doing (though he had to be good at it, with such slim, long fingers), but you didn’t get to be one of the most efficient underground organization on the block by letting teenagers near the “bank statements” He didn’t even actually know how old the boy in front of him was. How much heat it would bring down if he turned out to be a runaway?

“How old are you again?”

“Sewenteen, sir.”

“Oh good, you’re seventeen.” McCoy rolled his eyes, accidentally revealing the frustration that the kid wasn’t legal. He wasn’t the greatest looking man Bones had ever seen, but he was no ogre either. 

Chekov rolled his eyes right back in response. “Sir, I assure you that I am not some eenexperienced-“ But his words were cut off as the two large men from before opened the door and showed him out.

“This way, cupcake,” said the larger of the two.

Chekov tried not to take offense at being called cupcake, and did his best to appear impassive as they frog-marched him upstairs, to what he presumed was the room he would be sharing with the man called Sulu. Sulu…an interesting, minimalistic name. Chekov resolved to get a laptop to do his research on his roommate.

A week later, McCoy was fairly confident that the new boy would at least work for the foreseeable future. A week wasn’t long enough to detect any deeply hidden defects too large to be employable, but the kid had a good work ethic and fast fingers if the reports from Sulu were as accurate as they usually were. McCoy sometimes strode by the bedroom on his daily walks around the house and both of his pickpockets were gone long before they were required to be out. McCoy hadn’t gotten any negative reports of their pre-dawn behavior, and he didn’t really care what they did as long as they kept their mouths shut and strangers’ pocketbooks open.  
Chekov meanwhile found pickpocketing more than a thrill than he could have expected. Sulu (or Hikaru, as Chekov was allowed to call him) had an acerbic wit but a kind heart, and got Chekov out of a few scrapes in the first days. Chekov soon repaid the favor, and settled into his place at Enterprise. He sometimes caught their boss peeking in on their progress, and the supervision drove Chekov to work even harder, both for the money and for his characteristic desire to impress authority figures. As another week ticked by, Sulu sometimes let Chekov help balance their accounts, something which the Russian “whiz kid” could do in his sleep.

“Whatcha got there?” McCoy would not say that he snuck around the house, but he was a very quiet man when he wanted to be and some of the people he chose for work specifically in-house weren’t the most observant of beings. Bones knew exactly what the Russian kid had, but testing this kid’s mettle was crucial at the stage of work. Chekov was not one of these unobservant in-house men. The boy flinched slightly, but did not lift his head from his work for a few seconds.

“Does Sulu know you’re working on his account as well?”

Chekov nodded. “Hikaru is avare that I do his accounts. He asked me, sir. I told you from zee beginning, I am werry good at math. As easy as breathing, sir. And Sulu would rather plan our route for tonight. So zat is the deal: I do zee math, he does zee map, and together ve haf raked in more cash from pick-pocketing in two veeks zan your organization had done in zee entirety of last month.”

He pulled the book out from under the kid’s hands and double checked the two weeks the boys had been running with that system. The figures lined up with the official statements he had read that morning. He wasn’t a genius, but numbers didn’t baffle him either. Now what to do with a cocky Russian boy who had a head for numbers? He didn’t like the rest of his organization being badmouthed by a kid wet behind the ears, but he knew when to put things like that aside and bring in the most qualified at the right time, but then again. He decided where Chekov would go.

“Alright. When you’re finished with your accounts tell Hikaru that he’s getting another trainee tomorrow. You’re moving to dispatch with Uhura. She’ll explain your duties. Shift starts in an hour.”

Chekov nodded again and watched Bones exit the room. After he was certain the boss was gone, he heaved a sad sigh. Sulu: yet one more name to add to the list of people he would miss. Well, at least they’d still be working in the same place. Of course, he’d have to switch rooms, and that would be useless wasted time. But he also knew it was best not to directly disobey McCoy (he’d come far too close with the accounts stunt, he realized now). So he put his meager pile of belongings into a bag and headed down to dispatch. There he found a lovely woman with a sharp tongue who, though initially almost frigidly polite, soon softened when she realized how useful his knowledge of Russian might be. Chekov settled in relatively quickly (he had his own tiny room now), and visited Sulu for coffee when there was time.  
xx

McCoy limped across the wooden floors of his office and fell ungracefully into his chair. The bastards had taken advantage of him like he was a fuckin’ civilian. Back when he was a doctor he expected to face some things that he couldn’t handle, but he’d gone a long way since those days. He’d gotten careless and he had that little Russian shit to thank for saving his ass.

“Someone get me a bottle of whiskey and grab that kid from dispatch. You know the one goddammit the only foreigner in dispatch under 18. And get my first aid kit out of the bathroom.” The sound of several running feet told him that they were obeying the order. They damn well should, he thought. Heads were gonna roll over this fiasco if he had to roll them himself. He had a jagged piece of glass sticking out of his hip and a possibly fractured ankle. “Where the hell is that whiskey?”  
Chekov was horrified to hear that he was wanted in the boss’s office. He’d expected some sort of disciplinary action, but now he feared that he would be fired. But when the man he couldn’t help thinking of as “Cupcake” arrived to bring him to McCoy, it seemed circumstances were different. Chekov peeked into the office and saw Bones holding a flask, a grimace on his face. He took a deep breath and launched into the story – might as well have the facts straight before he lost his job. “Sir, I apologize for my actions, but I do not seek forgeeveness because I know vat I deed vas right. A deespatch came in, and it was all in Russian. I vas the only one who understood, and vat I learned vas zee miscreants vere coming after you, sir. So I responded and changed all the passvords to the accounts before zey could hack anyzing. I zen eenformed Uhura of my actions and she gave me permission to moneetor zee situation. I vas not certain you vere wounded, sorry, sir. I heard zee breaking glass on zee recording, howewer, and I knew to send your men in search of you. Zen I updated zee firewall and tracked zee GPS I detected on the meescreants. Zat is how ve found you een time. I am sorry for zee inconvenience and for not technically having clearance for zee things I deed, but I zink it better zis way.”

McCoy listened to the story the boy spun until the very end when he looked at him with complete resignation in his eyes. The kid was probably already mentally packing his room and figuring out where his next meal would come from. Bones knew the feeling. When Chekov looked as if he were going to burst out into another heavily accented soliloquy, he stopped him.

“Just stop talkin’ for a second and take a seat. Pour me another one too. I’m gonna say something that I don’t have to say too often.” Chekov poured him another and waited for McCoy to speak again. “Ya saved my life out there kid. You took the initiative and I have my hide because of it. As soon as I get myself patched up we’re going to get you your passwords.

Chekov breathed a sigh of relief inwardly and began thanking McCoy, probably several more times than was strictly necessary. He finally took the cue to shut up, and took a small sip of the whiskey McCoy had thrust at him. It was strong, but Chekov had been born in Russia, and alcohol never tended to go to his head. McCoy worked on patching himself up and Chekov watched attentively. Maybe he’d learn to patch people up too someday, just like Bones. Well, perhaps not just like Bones, but there were worse people he could think of emulating.

Finally, he headed upstairs to Sulu’s room. The newest trainee wasn’t in at the moment, so Hikaru invited Chekov in for some tea (when it was late, Sulu tended to drink very fine black tea, which Chekov had learned to enjoy). The two sat companionably in silence, until Sulu cleared his throat.

“So you saved the day, eh? I knew you had it in you.” Sulu beamed at the Russian. “Uhura and I had placed bets on how long it would take you to get the passwords.” He tossed Chekov a twenty dollar bill. “I won. And since you were the subject, you might as well take a little.”

Chekov laughed until he nearly choked on his tea. “Bets? On me? Vat made you so sure I vould be any good? I’m just some brat fresh off zee boat without a penny to my name.” He grinned innocently up at his friend.

“My ass you are. Come on, have a beer. Congratulations, kid.”

Chekov blinked primly. “You know werry vell zat I am underage.”

“That didn’t stop Bones, now did it? Drink up, you deserve it.”  
xx 

McCoy snickered quietly outside of the kid’s room. Chekov earned his own small room 4 doors down from his own. It was small, but probably better than anything he’d had before. “You boys ready?” McCoy rolled his eye at James Kirk’s big grin. McCoy liked initiations, but that man loved them.

“Nothing like a friendly kidnapping.” Jim pulled the ski-mask over his head and motioned for everyone else to do the same. McCoy counted down to kicking the door in. 3. 2. 1. They would probably have to replace the door in the morning, but the terrified look on Chekov’s nearly cherubic face was enough to warrant the extra expense. “Rise and shine, lad.” Scotty yelled. Jim, Scotty, Cupcake, Sulu, and Chapel cornered the terrified Russian and held him tight by each limb. A blindfold was secured over his eyes and Uhura’s strong hands held tight to his mouth.

“Did anyone bother to make sure he didn’t sleep armed?” Bones whispered. He hadn’t thought of the possibility, but stranger things had happened. The boy was fortunately unarmed and incredibly wiggly.

“Come on. We’re getting old and this boy’s got some ink to get.” Cupcake wrapped his entire arm around Chekov’s body and held him still in the elevator. The elevator was silent save Chekov’s labored breathing and the small selection of dull tinkling music that found its way out of the decrepit speakers. The final ding meant the basement floor.

Two chairs stood alone in the vast darkness, illuminated by a ceiling lamp. Jim took one seat, and the combined efforts of Sulu and Uhura kept Chekov in the other until the blindfold was released.

He knew the voices sounded familiar. “Vat zee hell is going on?” he demanded. “I do not like zis at all!” But the blond man he’d only seen talking to Bones approached him with a tattoo gun and grin on his face. He approached his left arm and Chekov’s eyes grew wide in terror. They will see it, they’ll see who I am, he thought desperately. But the man (Kirk, that was his name), rolled up his sleeve and made a noise of admiration.

“Looks like someone beat us to the tat, boys. Nice ink, kid. Guess we’ll just do the other arm.” Kirk rolled up the right sleeve and began the tattoo. “Sorry for the pseudo-kidnapping, kid, but this is part of the deal. We like to have a tattoo as a symbol of our solidarity. It’s really all in fun, promise.”

Scotty (Chekov had shadowed him for a day when Uhura had very little for him to do) piped up and said, “Aye, lad, all in fun, but we really are gonna need you to make a last will and testament. This is a dangerous business, and we cannae take chances.”

Bones admired Jim’s handiwork on Chekov’s thin but well-muscled arm. He’d been the sanctioned tattooist ever since Cupcake almost spelled Enterprise wrong during Scotty’s initiation and nearly lost teeth over the whole ordeal.

“Ya did good, kid.” Bones snapped a picture of the brand new tattoo. It was a spaceship with their name emblazoned on the side and the words Boldly Go underneath. Bones’s first tattoo came under the orders of the founder of the organization, Pike. It was a darker, more violent chapter in the history of the Enterprise. The logo had been a saber tooth cat with half a man lodged in its teeth. Spock, Jim, and Bones had worked tirelessly under his regime for as long as their consciences would allow before deposing their leader.

“Now that that is over. Here are your passwords. Do not show these to anyone. You memorize them here and we burn them.” McCoy handed the kid a sliver of paper. Only he knew all of the codes. The man with the codes had the power to bring everything to a screeching halt.

Bones felt a surge of pride as shouting overcame his thoughts. He’d made a good choice in that kid.

Despite the vague pain in his arm, Chekov was elated. After all this time, he belonged somewhere. He had a roof and a bedroom and steady meals and friends. And so he shouted out the lyrics to old rock songs with his new family and drank a bit and danced a bit and generally felt swept up by his new-found happiness.

The next morning, head aching and eyes bleary, Chekov sprang out of bed and gleefully logged into the network’s mainframe. He drank what felt like a couple gallons of coffee without batting an eye, and worked on an elegant code he was hoping would more effectively breach bank security systems.  
McCoy could watch that kid work for hours if he didn’t have any self-control or other jobs to be doing. The way he worked with computers was like a skilled artist molding clay, and a strange joy came into his eyes when he figured out programs. It was beguiling.

He took chunks of raw code he spewed out in minutes and worked it masterfully until it did his bidding. After looking at the returns on the first week of Chekov as head of cyber espionage he felt a little bitter at not putting him there sooner, but the kid wasn’t ready in the beginning, and neither was he.  
He always tried not to get attached to his employees, but Bones knew it was a lie from the moment he said it. He couldn’t help the Enterprise becoming family. It happened with Sulu and Uhura and Scotty and damn near everybody in the place. The filial bond of these people was infectious and he’d caught the bug. And sometimes it felt a little more than filial, damn that adorable Russian. When did he turn eighteen, again?

“Deed you say somezing?” Chekov had stopped tapping away at his computer and rotated in his chair to face the door.

Bones stammered for a bit before speaking, “Uhh, yeah. You shouldn’t ever have your back to a door. It’s dangerous.”

“Uh, zank you, sir.”

“Alright, Chekov. I’m gonna say this once. You’re a good kid. And what I said about don’t go lookin’ to me for a father figure, well that was bullshit. I still wouldn’t look to me for that because of my track record, but I’m not gonna stop you cause you mean a lot to me and everybody in this place.”  
Chekov cocked his head to one side and wrinkled his eyebrows. 

“Sir, you are avare zat I can’t help looking up to zee people who save my life. Zere was no vay that I would disregard zee eempact you haf had on me. And regardless how you may feel on zee subject, I haf zee greatest respect for you. Zank you, sir, for taking me and letting me do vat no one else vould.”

Bones had never been a big crier, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in front of a 17 year old Russian boy who had one of the keys to the kingdom. Though he couldn’t help but wish he had something more than respect.

“Dammit Chekov. Start talking and you don’t know where to end. Now get back to that before I dump you back on the street.” Bones left with a muttered excuse about filing papers that Chekov knew had been organized the day before.

“Aye, sir.”  
xx

About a month after Chekov’s initiation, Jim Kirk stopped by the little computer room. “How’s the tat feeling, kid?” he asked with a bright smile.

Chekov grinned. “Werry vell, sir. But as you saw, I’fe had some eexperience.”

Kirk chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Tougher than you look. And speaking of tough, you nearly drank Scotty under the table. You want to have another go at it? We’ll use vodka this time if you prefer.” He raised his eyebrows, teasing.

“I’m game, sir. Eef you use vodka, though, eet will place you all at a great deesadvantage.”

“No one told me about your sense of humor. Come on, I know you haven’t had lunch yet. Take your break with me and Uhura and maybe even Spock.”

Chekov logged off and followed Kirk down the stairs. Uhura and Spock met them outside, and together they ate at a little diner Chekov had never been to before. He thought he heard some snatches of Russian in the back room, and did his best not to crane his neck to see, or shrink back in fear. You’re safe here, he chanted in his mind. They don’t know you’re here, and you’ve got friends to watch your back. It made him feel a little calmer.

Uhura and Jim were laughing over some joke he had missed, and Spock was arguing with the waiter about the vegetarian options available at their establishment. Then Jim turned to him, still laughing. “Okay, I’ll stop giving you a hard time, promise, but can I just see your old tattoo one last time?” Chekov obligingly rolled up his sleeve. Jim sighed. “I don’t know Nyota,” he muttered to Uhura. “I…just feel like I’ve seen it before, you know? Whatever, I’ve seen and done a lot of tattoos in my day. Jeez, Chekov, lighten up. I’m not accusing you of anything! It’s a sexy tat that’s sure to get you some ladies someday.”

Chekov forced a smile and was relieved when they finally headed back to the Enterprise building. He felt much safer behind his computer.  
xx 

“Bones! Bones!”

McCoy groaned inwardly. He was tired as hell and it was nearly midnight. “Bones!” the knock on his door was growing ever louder, and he had probably already woken the whole floor.

“Jim. I’m coming.” He rolled out of bed and pulled on his tennis shoes. No time to get lax.

“What the hell do you want?” McCoy took the second between opening the door and Jim shoving a newspaper in his face to push the man a little further away.

“I know where Chekov’s tattoo is from.” He paced the hallway anxiously.

“Go on.” McCoy couldn’t smell any liquor on Jim’s breath, and therefore determined that what he had to say could possibly have some merit.

“I knew I recognized it and his nationality and then this.” The light in the hallway was just bright enough for McCoy to read it.

It displayed the picture of a large, dangerous looking man with confirmed gang allegiance. Under identifying marks was the smoking bullet. The tattoo was the Russian letter “L” surrounded by sunbursts in a small circle. The exact same as Chekov’s.

Chekov caught a glimpse of the evening paper and felt a pit open within his stomach. They must know, he thought in horror. He spent almost an hour pacing around his room before resolving to see if Bones knew. But as he approached McCoy’s office, he saw Kirk already there, brandishing the paper. Their voices were too muffled, but Chekov could tell that Jim was shouting. McCoy had a look of what Chekov was certain was the upmost disappointment in his eyes. The young Russian turned and flew back to his room. He snatched up his already packed backpack (he’d been getting increasingly panicky since the Russian voices he heard in the diner) and a piece of paper. He scrawled, “The situation is very complicated and subsequently I must leave to protect both my families. Please understand and do not hate me for my heritage. If I do not make contact within the day then they’ve found me. If I am never seen again please send any remaining funds I have to my mother,” and slipped the note under Sulu’s door. With that, he took a deep breath and slipped out the building’s back door.

“Where would he have gone?” Bones shook Chekov’s sheets for any shred of evidence. A diary or a receipt for a train ticket, “Sulu, you went somewhere with him when he worked your beat? Where was it?”

Sulu shook his head sadly, “We just went for coffee or tea. He’s not going to go to a coffee shop on the run from a mob.

“Why the hell did he run in the first place?” Jim flung the door open with the note nearly crumpled in his hand.

“I’m sure your very genial tone had nothing to do with it.” Uhura snatched the note from his hand and folded it carefully along the original crease lines.

“I didn’t know he was listening. I didn’t even know you were listening. “

McCoy grabbed the note himself, “Fighting isn’t going to bring him back safe. Uhura and Sulu get the northern edges of the city. Check the trains as well. Jim and Scotty go to the south. Spock and I will check the eastern sections. Check under bridges and in 24 hour Laundromats. The kid’s been homeless before and he knows where to hide. We meet up in 3 hours to sweep the west.”

Silence fell over the room before the flurried sound of slipping on shoes and grabbing flashlights. They were going to find Chekov.  
XXX

“You thought you were safe.” The voice was low, and came from behind Chekov. He tried to move his arms and found that he was tied to the chair. The voice spoke again. “

"There is no purpose in struggling, Pavel Chekov. We’ve found you now, so you have no hope. Shall we begin?”

Dread filled Chekov, but he cleared his throat and answered bravely, “Yes, you may begin. But eet vill end vith me. Kill me for being my father’s son, but get no one else eenvolved.”

The voice laughed and Chekov heard footsteps. “Oh, Mr. Chekov, your family, to which I assume you are referring, is already involved. Your mother by virtue of being your father’s wife, and your friends by virtue of knowing you. “  
XXX 

“Did anyone find him?” McCoy was out of breath from running to meet the rest of the group at the warehouses near the west end of the city. He was bone tired and worried sick. No one had seen hide nor hair of the kid. None of the bums on the corners or the kids out way past curfew in the park. The city was shrouded in darkness and silence.

They all reported a negative on any news from Chekov, though Spock was nowhere to be seen. It was nearing 4 in the morning. McCoy didn’t know about any Russian gangs in particular, but the ones around them were not well known for patience or mercy to captives.

“We’ll take the warehouses row by row. This goddamn city isn’t that big.” Sulu checked the safety on his gun and began the short walk to the entrance of the warehouse sector. The entrance was somewhat of a joke because of the fence’s numerous weaknesses, but it was safer than sneaking in if you were up to honest business.

“Where’s my phone?” Jim called out. He was still loitering around the car, flipping the backseat over and yelling wildly for someone to call it.

“Leave your goddamn phone Jim. We all have ours on us.” McCoy raised his own cellphone as an example.

“The GPS.” Jim yelled across the parking lot before beginning a mad dash toward them.

“What GPS?”

“When we were being threatened by those assholes across town I had the GPS’s activated in all of our phones. We can track any one of us through our phones. Now we just have to hope that little shit is smart enough to keep his on him.”

McCoy felt his hopes rise higher than he had dared let them as the green blinking light on his phone’s screen began to narrow down their search. He was in the warehouses. Then the northern ends of the warehouse, and then within a 3 warehouse radius, and then it stopped. There were 4 abandoned warehouses that hadn’t had tenants in years, and Chekov was in the furthest one from the entrance. They had the bastards.  
XXX

Blood dripped from Chekov’s nose and his eye was nearly swollen shut, making the next blow a surprise. He coughed and retched, trying not to betray his pain.

“Come, come, Pavel. We will find your family, no matter what. The longer you withhold the information, the more they will suffer.”

Chekov shook his head. He didn’t think he could talk at this point even if he wanted to. Blood from his nose kept ending up in his mouth and he spat it out. “No,” he managed. “My other family vill find you, and zen you vill see.”

Khan barked an order at a burly Russian. He pulled a cruelly pointed blade and advanced on Chekov. Khan smiled slightly. “Shall we converse like civilized people, or do you prefer more encouragement?”

“I vill give you conwersation. Vy are you inwovled in zis, Khan? You haf no ties to Russia. You are a thug. Vy do you care about my family and somezing my father did five years ago?”

Khan shook his head, almost pityingly. “Little Pavel, why do you think? I don’t care about this ridiculous mob’s ties. I merely want to inflict pain for whoever is paying me. At that moment, that is the family of the man your father betrayed. Your father got what he deserved, and now you will.”

The burly man spun the knife about and slashed out at Chekov’s right arm, slicing the Enterprise tattoo. He bit back a scream.

Suddenly there was a crash and the hoarse cry of one of the guards. The burly man occupied with Chekov looked about in surprise and flung out his arms as he fell to the ground, shot dead. The knife fell into Chekov’s lap, and he tried to reach it with his relatively unharmed left arm.

“Sulu guard the door. Watch for more.” McCoy ordered. Sulu fell back near the entrance. He counted 5 men in the small office about 50 yards off and 3 men near enough to Chekov to use him as a shield. Worry snaked through McCoy’s stomach acidicly. 

Scotty and Uhura were already on their way to take out the reserves in the break room. Seconds after they crashed through the door, Jim fired off two quick shots in succession, killing two of the three men standing around a very bloody, battered Chekov.

The third grabbed a knife from Chekov’s weak grasp and held him by the hair. The knife lay centimeters from his skin.

“I will spill his traitorous blood without hesitation!” The stranger screamed. Jim motioned for Scotty and Uhura to lower their weapons. They were covered in the blood of the men they’d slain.

“He should not pay for the sins of his father.” Jim’s voice was calm, but McCoy had heard Jim like that before, and it was usually just before he did something incredibly stupid.

“If he does not, then who will?”

A voice from above answered, “You,” and Spock jumped down from a low-hanging rafter. He pinched the pressure point in the stranger’s shoulder and the man slumped down. Chekov sagged under the man’s weight, blood dripping down his arm. He fell to the floor seconds before a pair of hands cradled his head, preventing him from banging it on the concrete.

“He’s losing a lot of blood. Dr. McCoy!” yelled Spock. McCoy ran to his side, shoving the unconscious man unceremoniously off Chekov’s prone form.  
“Come on, Chekov. Someone was bound to hear those shots. You’ve got to get up for us.” McCoy used the kid’s good arm to lift him off the bloody concrete. They would be hard pressed to get to the car before the cops showed as it was.

Chekov was slipping between states of consciousness, but managed to murmur, “My family…you came for me.” His lip was swollen and bloody and the words were scarcely intelligible, but the sentiment was obvious.

“Shush. Of course we did, and I’ve got enough tranqs to down a horse if you don’t stop trying to talk through those lips.” He wished he could kiss them better, wished he could hold Chekov until the pain that marred his delicate face faded, but he only gritted his teeth and prayed they’d have enough time. McCoy sat Chekov down in the back seat of their car and held pressure on his arm. Spock took the wheel, and everyone else broke off into groups to retrieve the cars they had commandeered for the rescue.

A year later, Chekov had completed his first year of college. He went to best the school in the city (he wasn’t yet ready to completely bid his families farewell) on a full scholarship (they didn’t report the illegal incomes on the FAFSA). He met with great success, and planned on finishing his degree in only two years. Just as Jim had predicted, the tattoos were quite popular among the female students, as was his exotic accent. The capture of the famed criminal Khan had remained as the city’s sensation for months (who had incapacitated him long enough for the police to arrive, the papers demanded).


End file.
